


A Pirate, a Scientist, and a Genius

by greenjello94



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caring John, Dogs, Fluff, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sentiment, Smut, Sort of plot, a bit of angst, sherlock is a bit emotional, sherlock is reluctant to express feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:43:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2128893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenjello94/pseuds/greenjello94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds out something about Sherlock's childhood</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for tumblr user http://dragon-slayer-sherlock.tumblr.com/ for the Johnlock gift exchange. I hope you like it :)

Sherlock Holmes always thought that he couldn’t get attached. Not after Redbeard. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the beauty and loyalty that was always found in a dog. And then one day he found a little terrier following him from Bart’s. He assumed it was a hungry stray and started to head to the local pet store. But it wasn’t until he noticed the limp and tattered fur did he gently pick up the dog and carry it home. 

 John came home after a dull day at the surgery to find the consulting detective lying on the sofa, a small terrier lying on his chest. The sight was something he never dreamt of. Sherlock seemed to be fast asleep or at least very relaxed while the puppy slept soundly. The sight was so unexpected it wasn’t until a couple minutes did John notice the bulky white dressing wrapped around the puppy’s left hind leg. The idea that Sherlock Holmes took care of another breathing thing sparked something inside John and a new wave of affection and love blossomed for the detective.

Sherlock awoke to the smell of John, and stale tea. He tried to get up but the puppy was still sitting on his chest staring up at him. Sherlock cocked his head to the side and the puppy slowing and oddly got up and stretched it’s non broken limbs and made its way off of Sherlock. Once on the ground, the puppy looked up at Sherlock who took a minute to realize that the puppy was probably thirsty again. Sherlock made his way to the kitchen to get the puppy water when his foot bumped something on the ground: a bowl filled with water. Sherlock smiled slightly, happy that John wasn’t like Mycroft and despised dogs and lead the puppy to the water. As the dog lapped up a mouthful, Sherlock heard John slowly make his was down the stairs.

 

" Oh, good morning" He said, his voice dry from sleep. "So, a puppy."

 

"Yes John. Very observant."

 

"Is it a boy…or a girl?"

 

"A girl, I named her Marie."

 

"Marie?"

 

“Yes.”

 

John nodded in response and stared at Marie who was currently chewing on what looked like a dog toy.

 

"You bought her a dog toy?"

 

"Yes. And food. And I took her to the vet; none of her bones were broken but she did have a cut on her hind leg that the vet took care of.  

 

"Sherlock…I don’t think…"

 

"I’m perfectly capable of caring for a dog John. I’ve had one before."

 

John’s head snapped up at that. “You did?”

 

Sherlock simply nodded not wanting to talk about Redbeard. John, bless him, noticed the change in Sherlock’s face and didn’t press further. 

 

"Alright, fine, she can stay, if it is alright with Mrs. Hudson-

 

“It is, she adores her.”

 

“All right then, fine. Just get her a proper bed then.”

 

Sherlock nodded, happy to be allowed to keep Marie and went over to his bedroom to get dress.

-

The next two months went on normally. John was quite surprised how good Sherlock was at caring for a dog, he always fed her daily meals and made sure she always got a belly rub. It was quite extraordinary to seen the detective, who was usually so harsh and kept his emotions hidden, to be really caring and joyful.

 

Everything was going pleasantly until one day while out walking Marie was Sherlock put to the test. Marie suddenly began running away, causing Sherlock to lose the leash and having to chase down Marie through London. John followed as swiftly as he could and when he finally did catch up, Sherlock was yelling viciously at a young teen who was yelling back and holding Marie. When John was within earshot he heard the preteen yell for his mother and saw him turn around where a couple and young girl were walking fast up to the boy. 

 

"This dog is mine. She followed me home. I took care of her. She is mine." Sherlock said in confidence. 

 

The father simply handed Sherlock pictures of what appeared to be Marie, some dating back to Christmas, 5 months ago. 

 

John kept quiet as he watched the situation unfold; Marie obviously had a previous loving family and he saw Sherlock’s anger dissolve into a something he never seen on Sherlock before: heartbreak. 

 

Sherlock looked up at the family, all gushing over Marie as she licked them in greeting and in one last attempt, he chocked out “but I cared for her” and without a response, Sherlock spun on his heel and sprinted back home. 


	2. Chapter 2

 

John hurried home after apologizing to Marie’s family, and accepting the reward money reluctantly. He skipped taking a cab, and once on an empty sidewalk, he began running back to Baker Street.

*

Once home, John jumped the stairs, taking two at a time, and burst through the front door to find the living room empty. He rushed to the kitchen to find Sherlock’s experiments in disarray; broken beakers scattered the floor, unknown liquids across the table and chairs. John sprinted to Sherlock’s bedroom and gently but swiftly knocked on the door.

“Sherlock,” He began, softly but affirming. “Can I come in?”

No answer.

“Sherlock. Please. Just let me in. It’s going to be all right. Marie will be fine. They obviously love her and care for her-”

Before he could finish his rambling sentence, the door swung open, and a disheveled and bleeding Sherlock stood in the doorway.

“If they cared for her and loved her so much then she wouldn’t have been wandering the streets for so long and I wouldn’t have found her.” He snapped, anger radiating from him; anger and another emotion John couldn’t place; something he’s never seen on Sherlock.

“Sherlock…”

“Go away John. I don’t want to talk about my feelings.” The last word said in such a disgusted tone, John cringed.

Feeling sorry and anger at Sherlock at the same time, John stood up straighter and let out what was practically an order.

“Sherlock, you are going to go sit in the bathroom while I get the medical kit and I am going to tend to those cuts. And then we will talk, is that clear?”

John then spun around without seeing Sherlock’s face contort into a look of shock and walked determining to the kitchen for the medical kit.

*

“Jesus.”

John whispered as he was tending Sherlock’s cuts. Sherlock sat in silence, with an occasional wince when John pressed too hard. He had over 10 small cuts all over his hands and arms, and 3 deeper cuts on his palms that needed a few stitches.

As he was finishing up the last cut, John took a deep breath and began speaking.

“How are you feeling?”

Sherlock didn’t respond right away, but merely glared at John before deducing he wasn’t going to be able to get away from John until they talked. He rolled his eyes and without looking directly at John, he responded,

“I’m fine.”

John glared in response, catching the lie.

Sherlock saw this and spoke again.

“John…you should know I’m not great with feelings and sentiment and I don’t…” He swallowed, and took a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t know how to talk about my feelings John. All I do know is that you’ll see me be sentimental about a dog and then you’ll think I’m more of a freak than I already am-”

“I don’t think you’re a freak at all.”

“I-…What?” Sherlock gaped at John who was looking at Sherlock in a way Sherlock’s never seen anyone look at him; an emotion etched on John’s face that was unknown to Sherlock.

Sherlock kept quiet at he studied John’s face. _He is relaxed, with…is that a sparkle in his eyes? And his mouth is slightly curved at the corner, as if he is smiling inside but is too afraid? Too cautious to actually show the emotion. John’s trying to hide that emotion that I can’t seem to find a name for. But the sparkle in his eyes gives him away. I have seen this emotion on John but what is it?_

He realised he hadn’t responded to John and he quickly cleared his throat, and tried to respond but no words came out. He was speechless. Sherlock Holmes was speechless because of an unknown emotion etched on his best friend’s face.

John clearly could see Sherlock was stuck in his mind so he reached over and gently placed his hand on Sherlock cheek. The touch didn’t startle Sherlock, but to Sherlock’s surprise, he slightly leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering down as a soft pink blush started creeping on his cheeks. The sentimentally of the situation oddly didn’t bother Sherlock, nor did it bother him when John slowly leaned in and placed a soft kiss upon Sherlock’s lips.

“Ok?” John was so close to Sherlock, their noses were brushing. Sherlock could feel John’s warm breath on his face, his lips tingling with the disappearing sensation of John. Realizing John had asked him if this was okay, he quickly nodded, his breathing quickening, as he blushed deeper.

 

“Sherlock, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that. Seeing you caring for Marie and seeing you obviously- don’t look at me like that it was rather obvious that you cared for her and how obvious it was when you were heartbroken made me feel that I couldn’t tell you how I felt. I….I was afraid you’d see it has too sentimental and I just-”

“John, please, I’d rather we continued on kissing rather than just to use words to explain what is obviously happening here.”

“You-you want more?”

“Of course, I…do…do you want to-”

“Yes! I do, Sherlock, I just thought…um…well…Sherlock I really think you should tell me how you feel and tell me about why losing Marie hurt you like it did.”

Sherlock didn’t respond but the look of terror was enough for John to reassure him.

“Sherlock, hey, its okay, we don’t have to talk now, but just be a bit more open with me yeah?”

Sherlock nodded, still quiet and kept his gaze on the floor.

John let out a sigh and leaned forward slowly, pressing a much more promising and sensual kiss on to Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock responded, relived for the conversation to switch topics and returned with much promise.

As John deepened the kiss, Sherlock felt his trousers tightening. In shock, he broke the kiss to look down. John looked down at him and a pleased expression grew on his face.

“Did you want to move to the bedroom?”

Embarrassed, Sherlock didn’t look up at John, but nodded shyly and got up to follow John.

As John sat down on the bed and began pulling Sherlock on top of him, Sherlock halted, his nerves growing.

“Okay?”

“Um John…” He began, his eyes on the ground. “I’m not….I haven’t done this before John…but I want to!” He quickly added, seeing John’s face change silently.

“Hey, its okay. Come here.” John sat against the headboard and led Sherlock to straddle his thighs allowing their clothed erections to come into contact. At the sudden closeness and warmth being so close to John, Sherlock’s breathing to quicken, his trousers grew tighter.

“We don’t have to go any further than just kissing. We can wait until you’re ready-“

“I am ready John!” Sherlock interrupted.

“Shh, its okay Sherlock. You don’t need to be snappy. I just want to make sure you’re ready and that you’re comfortable.”

“I’m very comfortable right now and I would like to continue what we started in the bathroom.”

John blushed deeply at that and giggled softly before leaning in to press a kiss to Sherlock’s nose. He moved around his face, placing soft chaste kisses along Sherlock’s cheekbones, forehead, and nose before finally pressing a kiss onto his lips. They began slow, copying each other’s movements, deepening the kiss but still at a slow pace. But it soon became rather hot in the bedroom and Sherlock broke the kiss suddenly to peel off his shirt, revealing his pale smooth chest. John, in awe of his beauty, caressed his chest and began placing kisses along his collarbone and down his upper chest. He **began sucking** Sherlock’s right nipple and causing Sherlock to arch into the touch and let out a low moan. Humming in pleasure, John moved on to the left one and then moved back up and began sucking his neck, determined to leave a mark.

“Johnn..”

“Hmmm?” After a while, John looked up to see Sherlock flushed very pink, a slight sweat gleaming along his brow. “What do you want?”

“I…I want to feel you…against me.”

John, happy to please Sherlock’s request, squirmed out of his jumper and t-shirt, baring his scarred and tanned chest to Sherlock who immediately began touching John’s chest. He then licked up from John’s right nipple to his earlobe, causing a moan creep out of John. He began sucking and biting John’s neck back down leaving marks along the way. John, aroused more than ever, than pulled Sherlock’s face back to his and roughly began kissing him. The two men were kissing and gasping for breath, their trousers becoming unbearably tight that it wasn’t long before Sherlock pulled back suddenly with his hair in a disarray. He quickly got off of John’s lap and yanked off his own trousers and pants, revealing his very erected cock.  At the sensual sight, John, who had been catching his breath, quickly began unbuckling his own when Sherlock’s hands joined his own and pulled John’s trousers and pants all at once, letting them join with his own on the floor.

Sherlock then practically leapt back onto John’s lap, the bed creaking in response. Their cocks touched and both men let out moans of pleasure. John grasped both their cocks and began stroking them together while they met at the lips again.

“Oh, Johhnn…ohh…”

“Yes, oh jesus, Sherlock, oh fuck”

“Johnnn”

“Shherrlockk”

It wasn’t long before Sherlock came, followed right away by John, their cum mixing as Sherlock slumped forward onto John, who wrapped his arms around Sherlock as they caught their breath. 

They lay their together not long, their sweaty bodies shivering. Slowly, they unraveled, and after a quick wash-up, the two crawled back into bed, and quickly fell asleep.

 

*

Late morning sunshine shined through the room, waking John up. He stretched and finding the spot next to him warm but empty. Surprised that Sherlock had stayed in bed a lot longer than usual, John got up and plucked one of Sherlock’s robes from the floor and made his way to the kitchen where he found to be clean. Before he could comment, Sherlock, who had been hunched over the microscope, looked up and said, “Mrs. Hudson did the cleaning.”

John hummed in response, and made his way to the kettle, pressing a soft kiss upon Sherlock’s head along the way.

Sherlock stopped what he was doing at the microscope and turned to John. John’s face turned from affection to worry as Sherlock looked afraid at what he was about to say.

“John I, I don’t do sentiment….” He began, looking up at John which he immediately regretted. John’s face looked like it was breaking and he didn’t want to see that happen so he quickly finished his thought, “John I do, I want to continue, I don’t know how to explain what I’m feeling so I started out slow but I’m sorry…don’t get mad….John I…” His rambling was caught off by John who had let out a breath of relief and had placed his hands on either side of Sherlock’s’ face.

“You have no idea how much I have been wanting to hear you say that.” John said quietly, his voice cracking.

“John…?”

“I was just worried, Sherlock. Seeing you broken up over Marie made me realise you don’t get attached easily and I wanted to be careful and take things slow. Obviously that didn’t happen but I’m not complaining, last night was….was just perfect Sherlock, and I would like to do that again…more often” He looked up at Sherlock who had blushed a rather deep color at the mention of last night and the idea of doing that more often.

“I would like to do more too John.”

John smiled widely at that, and leaned forward, pressing a deep kiss onto Sherlock.

“Now, Sherlock, I think we need to talk about Marie.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

After breakfast John sat down at the table between the windows with Sherlock on the other side, determined to keep his focus away from John who had ordered them to talk about Marie. It was Sherlock who suggested John have breakfast first before and thank god that worked. But now they were sitting across from each, the silence stretching on until John, annoyed but worried more, broke it.

“Sherlock…have you ever had anyone…a friend, a pet…someone that you cared for?”

“I had a dog…growing up.”

John was honestly surprised that Sherlock answered right away. He expected him to be more closed off; to be snappy and hostile.

“So you were attached to this dog?” John asked softly but relaxed, leaning slightly over the table.

“He was the only one who liked me.”

“Oh Sherlock…”

“He was a dog, John. And I was a child. Nothing more John. I don’t…I don’t want to talk about his anymore John.”

And there it was. Hostility. Embarrassment. Sentiment.

“Sherlock-”

“No John. I don’t want to talk about this-”

“Sherlock!”

Sherlock stopped midway from getting up and slowing sat back down. John was glaring at him but he looked more worried than angry.

John kept glaring at Sherlock for another 5 minutes before Sherlock huffed in frustration.

“Ugh, John! What do you want me to say!?” He yelled, jumping out of his chair. The sudden movement and loud noise didn’t catch John off guard however and he merely glared at Sherlock while he kept shouting. “What do want me to say? Uh John? What? Yes, I had a dog and he was the only friend I ever had, well until you of course. But I got attached and he was ALWAYS THERE FOR ME JOHN… ALWAYS, THEN HE GOT SICK….THEN HE…” Sherlock couldn’t finish the sentence, he was breathing heavily and his eyes and cheeks were wet. He looked down at his hands to see them shaking and back at John whose glare evaporated into a look of immense concern. Sherlock, exhausted by all this sudden emotions stumbled forward to John and crumbled in front of him, his head resting in John’s lap and his hands clutching at John. He was shaking uncontrollably, his breathing uneven.

“Sherlock, shh, its all right.” John said softly, placing a hand gently on Sherlock’s shoulder blade, caressing it. Sherlock didn’t respond, but tried taking a breath only to hiccup in the process. The shaking slowly wore out, until Sherlock was resting, half on the floor and half on John’s lap, his breathing evening out. John gently and kindly led Sherlock up from the floor and led him to the sofa. He sat down first and then brought Sherlock into his lap, his feet by the opposite end of the sofa, and his head in John’s lap.

Silence once again filled the flat, but it was a calm silence. John sat on the sofa, slowly threading his fingers through Sherlock’s curls while he slept off the emotional and sentimental day. While he slept, John began to think about where their relationship was going but realised that he and Sherlock were meant to be together and thinking too much into it will not do any good. So instead, John ever so tenderly rearranged them so that they were spooning, him against the back the sofa, hugging Sherlock and soon he too was fast asleep.

                                                                        *

Early morning light filled the flat as John awoke from a pleasant dream. He felt warmth pressing on his back and with a glance over his shoulder he found that he and Sherlock had moved sometime through the night, Sherlock against the sofa, spooning John. John ever so gently turned over, bringing himself face to face with the detective. Sherlock appeared to be fast asleep, his eyes still a bit red and puffy from last night but his breathing even and his arm over John, clutching his slightly. John took in this rare moment and before he knew it, he was falling back into sleep.

                                                                        *

The next time John awoke, it was due to the lack of warmth. He opened his eyes to find the back of the sofa in his view. He glanced over his shoulder to find Sherlock sitting in his chair, slightly plucking at his violin. John then turned over and stretched, his back unhappy with the night spent on the sofa. Sherlock snapped out of his mind palace to see John awake and he caught eye contact with John, who could see that Sherlock’s eyes no longer were red. John stood up and walked over to his chair and sat down, ready for Sherlock to open up.

Sherlock remained quiet however and after about 10 minutes did John finally speak up.

“Sherlock, how long did you have Redbeard?”

Sherlock didn’t look up from the floor, but quietly responded, “2 years. I was only 8 when he….when he died.”

“Did anyone talk to you about it? Explain it-”

“John, I was a child, but I understood that every living thing dies.” He snapped.

“Sherlock, please, I’m only trying to help. Did having Marie rekindle some memoires of Redbeard?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, Sherlock, look at me. Sherlock.” John waited until Sherlock looked up and then he continued. “Was it the “dying part” that upset you or was it something else?”

“He was taken from me.”

John didn’t understand and it was obvious for Sherlock, who then sighed and continued, “He got sick, and my parents didn’t want to spend the amount of money it would take to make him better. I didn’t get a say in it, he was “just too expensive to keep. He could’ve been saved John.” Sherlock said, looking up at John, his voice cracking. “It wasn’t the death that upset me, it was that it was completely preventable.” He finished, taking in a deep breath, his lip quivering. John placed a hand on Sherlock jaw, slightly caressing him.

 “Oh Sherlock, I’m sorry. So Marie…”

“Yes John, another pet taken away from me. I’ve always loved dogs John. Always. But it never lasted. First Redbeard, then a neighbor’s dog that I was allowed to watch for a whole month. I was 13 and my parents thought I wouldn’t get attached after only a month but I did. They had to break open my bedroom door, I had locked myself and the dog in there so they wouldn’t they give him back. Then there was Marie.” Sherlock said rapidly.

“Ohh, Sherlock, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry John, just promise me one thing, please. Promise me you won’t leave me.

“Oh, Sherlock, I could never even imagine leaving you.” He said, pulling Sherlock into a tight hug. “I care for you and love you too much to ever even imagine life without you. But promise me something too, promise me you’ll be more open about what you’re thinking and feeling, okay? Not all of us can read minds.” Sherlock let out a breath of laughter at the joke and nodded.

“Okay?” John asked quietly, pulling back and resting his forehead on Sherlock’s.

“Okay.”


	4. Epilogue

 

John and Sherlock made their way hand in hand through the crowd, Sherlock leading John by tugging him left and right, clearly in a hurry.

“Sherlock, slow down!”

“Come on John!”

John rolled his eyes and tried his best from not running into people.

Finally, they were they. Sherlock, after almost running here, stopped right outside the door.

“You okay?”

“Of course I’m okay John, lets go.”

Without looking at John, Sherlock made his way into the shelter.

Once in, the sound of attention-seeking dogs engulfed John’s attention. The dogs all ranged from young to old, from miniature to almost pony-size and they all peered from behind expensive-looking cages.

“Well, good morning gentlemen, what can I do for you?” A small woman behind the counter said.

“Hello, we are here to adopt.” Answered Sherlock.

“Well, perfect, do you have the proper paperwork?”

Sherlock looked expectantly at John who stepping forward, handing the woman a folder with all the essentials.

“Great! Do you have a particular preference or did you just want to look around, see who you connect with?”

*

After an hour looking and mingling with the dogs **,**  Sherlock finally found one. Within 10 minutes, the paperwork was dealt with and Sherlock began leading their new puppy out the door when John stopped him.

“Wait, Sherlock.”

“What?”

“We should pick out a name for him first.”

“Oh right. I was thinking Turing.”

“Turing.”

“Yes. Redbeard was named after a pirate I read about as a child and Marie was named after Marie Curie, so its only fitting we name this dog, who we have adopted as a couple, after someone who was an excellent man who helped his country and was also a genius.”

John smiled at the sentiment, and nodded. “Alright then.”

Sherlock smiled in return, and the two made their way back to Baker Street hand in hand with Turing, a young, jack russell terrier trailing right behind.


End file.
